Page 130 of At Her Pleasure
He never confuses the two.
“Okay. But one thing is true, Mick. You saved me. You’re the hero of my story. That belongs to me, and you’re not allowed to deny it. All right?”
He paused, went very still. She waited him out.
At long last, he nodded. Accepting that much.
As she’d expected, he’d pulled on the cuffs until his wrists were red. Blood seeped from the left one where the scraping had broken through. Since she’d had him in cuffs several times, and she’d done things that had made him fight them, every time, it was no surprise to see it.
She straightened and began to stroke in and out again. She kept his cock in a possessive, pinching grip, her free fingers digging into his balls around the rope. Both a help and a tease to that release that wanted to boil forth. The strap-on had a clit stimulator, and it was pushing her up higher, too. But it was his response to her, how he was coming apart and surrendering to her, that was the real stimulus. His pain was giving way to deeper feelings, beyond pleasure.
What was beyond pleasure? Bliss. Peace. A place to land.
She let the climax have her as she pumped into his beautiful ass, slamming those spikes against it. Her head tipped as she cried out, her body going rigid. She arched back, came forward, working herself into him until she took everything she wanted.
Satisfying, but not close to the intensity of the climax she’d give herself from other means.
Because of that, she didn’t indulge the aftershocks. After she eased the dildo out, she unbuckled and set the strap-on aside. She released the rope from between his legs and removed the layers wrapped over his body. When she untied the knot holding his cuffed wrists taut at opposite ends of the table, she didn’t unthread the rope from the bracelets.
“Lie down on the floor on your back, Mick.”
It was an awkward descent, and she cupped a hand behind his head and put a hand at his waist. Making sure the former didn’t hit the table, and to aid the strength of his aching knees on the way down. A concussion wouldn’t suit her plans.
He was rigid with the effort to control the release pulsing in his turgid cock. She relished watching his struggle as she looped the rope around the center post to secure his cuffed wrists there.
Mick was stretched out on the floor, arms above him. He held onto the chain attached to the cuffs, his grip suggesting the links would leave marks in his palms.
She stripped off the rest of his clothes then removed her shirt, slow, letting her hair fall back to her shoulders, bare except for bra straps. She slid them off her arms, the drape pulling on the cups, teasing him with what was almost fully exposed.
“I like the way you look at me, Mick.”
He was beyond words, but his need conveyed all the words she desired. She liked the hungry silence.
She slid her foot over his cock, playing with it, pressing on it, watching the flex in his thighs as he took the teasing threat and swallowed back a groan. Then she shed her jeans and filmy underwear. The only thing left was today’s jewelry, her skeleton cross. She’d left his on him as well.
Okay, yeah, for the two of them maybe it was like the broken coin thing. She wouldn’t tell him that, though.
She opened a condom and rolled it over his thick length before she straddled him. Gripping his cock and holding his gaze, she lowered herself, her ready, wet cunt taking him in. She caught her lip in her bottom teeth, enjoying his size, and wanting him to see that. Clutching him with her internal muscles, she dragged that friction along his length.
“Tell me how much you want to come, Mick.”
“I want to see you come again first,” he managed.
“You won’t last that long.”
“I want to last that long. I want to see you come in that deep…way you do. Where everything else…goes away, and it’s just…you. And me.”
She leaned forward, upper body bathed by his heated breath as she untied the rope and pulled it free from the cuffs. She sat back. “Give me your hands. Behave and be polite, or you get nothing.”
His eyes still had that wild look, but the wry tilt to his mouth told her he had enough restraint not to leap upon her. When he presented his hands to her, fingers half-curled, a sign of his agitated state, she’d pulled the key off the couch cushion where she’d left it. She unlocked the cuff on his right hand and tossed that set to the side. She then unlocked the open cuff of the left side and bound both his hands together.
His fingers curled over hers as she did all of it, touching her however he could, but he stopped himself from gripping her. Trying to behave.
She strung the key on her necklace, her hands not entirely steady as she refastened it. Fortunately the act drew his gaze to the tilt of her breasts, because if he had noticed the trembling—and his hands hadn’t been bound—she expected he would have tried to help her. He was like that.
She cupped his bound hands, bringing them up so she could put her mouth on his wrist, tasting the blood, soothing the scrape with her tongue. His cock pulsed inside her, his eyes half closing. His jaw was so rigid she had a mild concern the muscles might get permanently locked in that position. “Sit up,” she ordered.
When he did, she guided his arms over her head and down, so his hands rested on her buttocks. His eyes lifted to hers, alive with a hope and need that gave her own voice a slight break. Her body was shaking, too.